


l'attente fait mourir

by Raiichi



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bad Ending, Fatal Injury, M/M, Mostly Claude, Spoilers for The Golden Deer's Plea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raiichi/pseuds/Raiichi
Summary: Dimitri came. But he came too late.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	l'attente fait mourir

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing in _years_ , it is very likely to be bad, but I still wanted to post something. Furthermore, English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical or syntax errors that I have not been able to correct.

_“Derdriu won't fall. Have some faith in me, will you?”_

Claude stiffens as he remembers his own words, uttered merely a few hours ago before everything descended into chaos.

*

Under his orders, all the inhabitants of Derdriu have been evacuated away from the impending combat. Moments later, the Empire troops arrived like a storm and shattered the Alliance's first defence lines, sending the bulk of the two armies clashing against each other in a cacophony of battle cries.

The Alliance held up well at first, bringing down soldiers after soldiers of the Imperial Army in a swarm of well-placed arrows and axe blows. Claude killed his fair share of enemies too, demonstrating his skills as an elite archer with impeccable technique and agility that was second to none, and all of this on the back of his loyal wyvern. The leader of the Leicester Alliance is a genius tactician, but he is also an outstanding soldier, and those who forget it will pay for it with their lives.

Claude had sent a messenger prior to the beginning of the battle, asking for assistance from the Kingdom's troops, but in the meantime the Alliance could only count on his strategy and his own soldiers, while waiting for reinforcements. If they come. However, there is so much an army can do against the raging onslaught of a bigger one. In the end, it all comes down to numerical advantage, Claude thinks bitterly.

He failed them.

He saw his soldiers fall one after the other. His soldiers but also his friends. These idiots, he had ordered them to flee if the situation deteriorated, to save their skin first and foremost. Their stupid ideal of dying in combat... Claude will probably never understand it.

It was only a matter of time before he himself was hit.  
When he saw Hilda fall in battle, Claude could not help but lose control of his emotions and his temper for a moment. It was a fatal mistake. The sight of his friend's fall blinded him and he did not see the two arrows coming. By the time Claude realised it, it was too late to dodge them. The first arrow hit his wyvern dead-on while the second one pierced his side, sending them waltzing and tumbling down the height that separated them from land. Claude’s body hit the cold stone of Derdriu’s harbour with all his weight.

*

Claude is not sure how long he has been there, pinned to the ground and bleeding to death. To think that he would end up like this leaves a bitter taste in Claude's mouth. _Ha!_ Claude thinks, as he clutches at the gaping wound at his side that was draining him of his vital energy. Could it be that whoever hit him knew his wounds from Gronder Field still had not healed and took the opportunity to aim at his weak spot? Claude had to admit it was a smart move, he would have done the same. Only a handful of people knew of the extent of his injuries. Perhaps that meant that there was a spy in his ranks he had not been able to uncover? Maybe Hubert’s, they were persistent, those bastards ones. Or maybe...

He tries to exhale but only manages to cough out blood, staining his chin and his already dirty clothes from the battle. His thoughts are getting fuzzy and he no longer perceives what is happening on the battlefield. With him rooted to the spot and no one to give orders, what happened to the soldiers and the city? Have they lost? Have reinforcements arrived? Claude has no idea and notes with a strange feeling that not knowing and not being in control of the situation do not fill him with as much agitation and uneasiness as before. He is tired. His vision begins to blur and he feels cold. Very cold.

He can hear his wyvern whining beside him. He is currently lying on her back, usually bright white but covered in red and brown at the moment. He distantly remembers that she had tried to cushion his fall. What a brave beast, she stayed by his side until the end. _I don't deserve you_ , Claude thinks. He is suddenly overcome with sorrow as he thinks about how he will not be able to show her Almyra’s azure sky and blazing sun one last time. She will die soon.

“I'm sorry, Habibti,” whispers Claude, turning his head to look at the pained expression of his steed.

Claude lost today, and he was a fool to think he could have controlled everything and everyone.

_“Nothing good ever comes from Fódlan, Khalid.”_ a relative told him once.

Wrong. They were wrong and Claude had desperately wanted to prove it to them, his own people. He had wanted them to acknowledge this part of himself, his mixed heritage that they have always rejected. The other half of the blood that flows in him is not that of cowards. The last five years or so he spent here fighting with all of his comrades - his friends - are proof enough: they were brave.

He loses track of time again, not remembering when he closed his eyes, when he hears shouting around him. Or maybe it is simply the noise of his raging thoughts as he feels his strength leaving him gradually. Then, slowly opening his eyes, he catches sight of a storm of blond hair and hears the heavy footsteps of someone approaching in a hurry. He barely has time to wonder if his mind is playing tricks on him and abandoning him in his final moments before being lifted up and finding himself in the comforting warmth of an embrace.

_“Claude!”_

Claude's failing heart tightens at the hearing of this distant voice that he would recognize among a thousand. Is he dreaming? Is this an hallucination created by his traitorous mind to torture him until the end? The same kind of ghosts that haunted the person he seems to see in front of him right now? But then, he hears him again.

“Hang in there, please!” the voice implores, while tightening his grip on Claude, making him grunts.

“Dimi… tri…”

Uttering these few syllables is torture for his wounded body. Claude hardly manages to raise his head and meet Dimitri's imploring and panicked eye. Strikingly blue like the Almyran sky. In other circumstances, Claude might have been tempted to tease him as he used to do in more peaceful times, back at the Officers Academy. _Why the sad face, Your Princeliness? Are you perhaps worried about little ‘ol me?_

Now, though, he just feels his heart tearing even more. If he knew better, he would say he had imagined the wetness he felt falling on his face and the trembling in the arms that held him close. Claude, gathering all the few strength he has left, gently raises his arm and softly places his gloved hand on Dimitri's cheek, just under his black eyepatch. He can see Dimitri’s lips moving but he cannot make sense of what he is saying anymore. The noises of his mind so loud they block any other sound.

Dimitri came. Their ‘ _ittle ray of hope_ ’, as Judith called him, came and rushed to him. This thought brings some warmth to Claude’s cold body.

_“But he came too late, boy,”_ that irritating little voice keeps whispering right into his ear.

It is true, it may be too late for him, but Claude is not so foolish that he would let his dreams be shattered because he leaves this world too soon. And Claude is nothing if not persistent. He has always enjoyed taking dangerous risks, never mind if they backfire.

_If it's him_ , Claude thinks, _if it's Dimitri_ , his dreams and hopes are not completely lost. He can entrust them to him. Dimitri might not like it, but Claude knows he will try his hardest to see them come to fruition, to ease the tensions between their two countries and make their world a better place. After all, they shared this vision in the past and he is certain that it is still the case today. Ah, Claude would have loved to achieve this dream by his side, and maybe show him the wonders his native land has to offer once everything would have been over.

His hand falls, leaving behind a trail of blood on Dimitri's cheek. He feels a hand resting on the wound at his side, unsuccessfully attempting to contain the blood flowing from it.

At that, Claude von Riegan musters a final, small smile on his bloody face and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
